This Little Piggy
by DebXena
Summary: Spike decides to make Xander breakfast - wearing an apron and nothing else!


**This Little Piggy** by debxena  
  
LENGTH: 1001 words  
RATING: **R** - but fluffy  
CHARACTER: Spike/Xander  
TIMELINE: AU late Season 6. Spike and Xander came together after Buffy and Anya died in _Chosen_. They're now living together.   
DISCLAIMER: The genius known to the masses as Mr. Joss Whedon (who is, in actuality, operated by an evil puppet called Jed), has lent me these characters to play with. In return, I gave him four cans of spaghetti. Jed likes spaghetti.  
FEEDBACK: nods like a slavering puppy Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh. I love feedback!  
NOTE : Written for willshenillshe, as part of the Spikeslashficathon. Her request was as follows: Spike/Xander – cooking breakfast; bad cologne; a torn shirt. This is unbeta'd, so any errors are my own.  
THANKS: To willshenillshe for organising the ficathon, and for sparking the slash-bug within me.

* * *

Xander could smell bacon frying. The aroma had travelled from the kitchen through the apartment and it now caressed his nostrils, stroked his mouth to coax saliva forth, and was tempting him from the warm cocoon of sheets. If he could smell bacon, then it meant someone was making him breakfast. And that was always a treat.  
  
Wrapping the sheet around his waist, he followed his nose out from the bedroom. And was exposed to the sight of Spike standing in front of the stove. Spike wearing an apron. And nothing else.  
  
Xander drooled.  
  
"And you've finally woken up, I see," Spike said without turning around. "Smell get you up where nippin' on your ear failed?"  
  
Xander brought his drooling closer to Spike's back, and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Good morning," he said happily, laying his head on Spike's shoulder. "You're making me breakfast?"  
  
"Nope. 'T's all for me." Xander pouted, but knew he was joking. "Of course I'm making you breakfast, pet. Make you nice and strong, then take those strong arms back to bed with me." He turned in Xander's arms, smooched him on the lips. "Now get your scantily-clad ass back to bed and wait patiently."  
  
"My ass is scantily clad? Your ass's not clad at all!"   
  
"Well, got the apron to cover my important bits – frying bacon naked is just asking to get burned, you know." As if to prove his point, the pan spat, and Spike jumped as splatter hit his cheeks. "Ow! And now I know what they meant." He grinned in a pained fashion. "Get me a damp rag, pet? I seem to have burnt my ass."  
  
Chortling, Xander headed for the laundry. There were rags under the sink that they used to clean up after demons bled out on them, spunk got away on them, or Dawn ate pizza with them. Rags were always useful in Sunnydale.  
  
Rummaging in the cupboard, he pulled out a torn shirt (battling Chaos Demons was not good for the wardrobe – and those antlers had long reach), and ran it under the tap in the sink. Squeezing it out, he took it back to the kitchen.  
  
Spike had turned back to the job at hand – and was it even possible for bacon to smell more appealing, Xander wondered – but half a dozen red welts had come up on his posterior. He took the rag over and gently draped it over the affected area. "You want me to rub some burn cream on when you're done?" he asked.   
  
Spike chuckled. "Sounds like a good way to begin the festivities. You always did like to play with my bum." Indeed he did, slowly moving the damp rag over Spike's cheeks, and slipping in down between his legs. Playfully, he leant himself up against Spike's back and fondled his prick through the shirt. He could feel his own cock at half-mast beneath the sheet, and he pressed it gently against Spike's ass. "Now, now. Let me concentrate, or your bacon'll be burnt. Go on – get back to bed."  
  
Xander kissed him on the shoulder, then turned and opened the fridge. "Want juice," he said. "Then I'll go back to bed." He pulled out a fresh bottle of OJ, and cracked it open. "You want some blood?" he asked as he poured.  
  
"Not yet. Now get. back. to. bed!" Spike took the rag, twirled it up, and snapped Xander with it. "Scat!"  
  
Xander scat.

* * *

"Mmmmmm. Mmmmmmmmmmm. Bacon's good. Spike's good. Breakfast's good." Spike was sitting up in bed, leaned up against the headboard, and Xander was nestled in front of him leaning back on his chest. He was feeding pieces of bacon to Xander, grinning at the expressions of delight.  
  
"Love feeding you, pet. Nothin' like it in the world."  
  
"Well, I feed you often enough. Makes a pleasant change." Xander leaned over and took another swig of juice. "You want some"?  
  
"Some what? Bacon? Juice? Blood? Be specific."  
  
Xander put the glass down, wriggled around. "You want some Xander?"  
  
"Ooh – now that's an offer. Come here!" He pulled Xander tight, and he squirmed in closer. "Let's just put the plate down … over there." He moved the plate off the bed and put in on the side table. Things went clattering, and there was a tinkling CRASH as it knocked things off. "Shit. Sorry Xan –" it was his side of the bed "- I must've got your glass."  
  
Xander pulled away and went to look at the damage. As his head lent over the side of the bed, he recoiled. "Wha …" Then it hit Spike, who blanched. "Oh God! What is that smell?" He sprang off the bed and covered his nose with his hands. "Vampire senses are so not good right now." He retreated to the doorway, eyes watering.  
  
Xander had covered the lower half of his face with the sheet, and he said muffledly, "You knocked off that bottle of cologne – the one the Dawn gave me for my birthday? I'd left it out because she was over the other night, and you just know she looks to see if I'm using it." He coughed, and then gagged a little. "Oh, I think I'm gonna lose my bacon …" He dropped the sheet and pelted to the bathroom.

* * *

"Well, this was a good idea. Smart Spike." The water washed over them, beating on the tile. There was a reason Xander had checked out the size of the shower before signing the lease.  
  
"Well, I wanted to take advantage of you, and the bedroom seems to be out of bounds for now." Spike leered at Xander as he soaped down his chest. He tweaked his nipples as he said, "Got to make sure we've got all the splashes off you – you smell like feet."  
  
"Well, you smell like bacon, and I could eat you all up." Xander leaned in for a kiss, sliding his torso into Spike's. "So – you think we should go out for breakfast?" 


End file.
